Capsized
by Amy Blue
Summary: Gordo feels guilty and Lizzie just wants to know what happened. It's up to Miranda to bring them back together. Set after high school. (3/4)
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: I don't own the characters or the song "Today's the Day" by Aimee Mann. This chapter is from Gordo's POV, the next one will be Lizzie, and the one after that will be Miranda.

better pack your bags and run  
or stay until the job is done  
maybe you can sit and hope  
that providence will fray the rope  
and sink like a stone  
or go it alone

It's August. I'm sitting on my suitcase at the bus station and all I can see is her face and all I can feel is the guilt of a person who knows what he should be able to give but just can't give that much of himself to her, not anymore, not like this, not the way she wants it to be, not the way it would be if they were together. I want her to understand that when I did what I did that night after the prom I was just trying to look at the big picture, I didn't want a moment, I wanted forever, but it was impossible to see myself with her forever, knowing what I've learned about her over the years.  
  
Don't get me wrong; I love her, as a friend, and I'd like to think I'd always be there for her if she needed my support and that she'd always be there for me in the same situation. But I know how her mind works, and a guy like me is not what she wants, not now, even if she thinks she does, even if she thinks she's seen the light. She wants a guy who can make her feel better about herself and what she believes she deserves. And she doesn't want one who will tell her that's a stupid way of looking at love and she deserves everything and whether or not she has a boyfriend should not factor into that decision.  
  
I once thought I saw something special in her but now all I see is the constant struggle to fit in, to be one of the people who fits in without trying, and it just makes me sad.

and isn't it enough for you?  
isn't it enough?

I think it will be forever burned into my memory, the last time I saw Lizzie.  
  
It's the senior prom, and we both have dates, but she finally sees what's always been right in front of her, she sees that he isn't good enough for her, she sees me. We end up alone together, my shoulder damp from her tears, as usual. She looks up and smiles at me beatifically, expectantly, and I can tell just by looking at her that this is her Moment, she's telling me: I'm here, I'm finally ready, I'm finally free. And she wants me to tell her that I've been waiting and that it isn't too late, but I just can't say what I don't feel and I'm tired of this game anyway. So I shuffle my feet and say, "I have to get back, you know, Sarah... um, she's expecting me." Shell-shocked, she nods, and I walk away, back to the dance, back to a date whose name I barely remember, and now I'm the one who's finally free, wondering if that wasn't the biggest mistake I've ever made by leaving her behind or if it was the best thing I could have done.   
  
"Not cool, Gordo," Miranda told me over the phone the next day, and I could hear her shaking her head in disapproval. "I mean, whatever, okay, but guess who had to mop her up off the floor after you left?"  
  
"Well, I'm sorry you had to do that," I said carefully, "but I just did what I needed to do. Just because she finally realized that, hey, here's this guy who's always been around, why didn't I notice him before? doesn't mean I'm going to fall down at her feet saying, oh please, choose me!"  
  
She sighed. "Look, I don't hold it against you, it's not even really my business, I guess, and I see your point, but it's just a bad situation, you know? I've got another call. Three guesses as to who it might be. Later."  
  
I flopped facedown on my bed. She was right. This was the worst possible thing that could have happened. Why couldn't Lizzie have simply been right about the jock du jour, and gone off with him to live happily ever after, making tons of nice little mini-jocks-du-jour and, I guess, finally getting what she always wanted and having it turn out exactly the way she imagined it would be. But no, yet again, this guy had to turn out to be the guy everyone always knew he was; not a bad guy, maybe, but not the guy Lizzie thought he would be underneath all the artifice of popularity. The story always ends the same way. And I had to be standing right there after it blew up in her face, that had to be our Moment, the one I'd been waiting for since freshman year, the one I thought I would welcome when it came along.   
  
I guess I thought I was patient, that I could wait for her to see me, that I would be content to sit on the sidelines waiting to be called into the game, a last-minute replacement. Who could have predicted that when I finally got the call, I wouldn't even want it anymore?

so better pack your bags and run  
and send it to oblivion  
where you don't look like anyone  
that anyone would care about  
and do what you do  
'til it buries you

I saw her but we didn't talk at graduation. I tried to call her a few times before I left for college, but I guess she felt hurt by my failure to live up to her expectations and frankly I just wasn't up to groveling, she didn't deserve it. So I just left, and that day at the bus station was probably the last time I looked back on our friendship and its unfortunate end with genuine regret. It was easy to disconnect, to pretend that last night was just like any other and she was just somebody I once knew and we were just something that could have happened and didn't.   
  
For two years, I sat alone on campus, a million miles away from that life, and often I just couldn't help feeling like an exile, feeling sorry for myself, blending into the crowd of strangers and disappearing altogether. At least my work benefited from my angst; "happy people make boring movies"--that's like a mantra for all the film students at school. Most of them have to manufacture drama in their personal lives, but I on the other hand have the advantage of having given away what I once believed I wanted most and losing a friendship I would have treasured forever if I could have held on, if this hadn't gone down like it had.

isn't it enough  
like Major Reno at the bluff  
wondering aloud if help is on the way

So now it's winter break, sophomore year. Two years have passed and I'm heading home for the first time; my parents are finally home from their last European spree, and I'm trying to pretend it doesn't mean as much to me as it does to be welcomed back to town by them, at least, if not my old friends. I get an e-mail from Miranda that says she won't be in town for two more days, but maybe we can hang out while we're both at home.  
  
The call comes on the second night I'm back. It isn't her; it's a guy I barely knew from a couple of classes in high school. He's acting like we were best friends, he's inviting me to a party, and to my surprise I find I'm saying yes, of course I'll come, of course I remember you.   
  
I agreed to go because I couldn't pick up the phone and suck up my pride and pretend I felt guilty about leaving or pretend that I'd had a change of heart and suddenly I was in love again, but I did want to see her, despite everything. I wanted to see how college and time had changed her, if she'd changed at all. But mostly, I wanted her to say she understood why I left her alone that night, and I wanted to make her come back to me. 

and isn't this your chance  
to make a break with circumstance?  
isn't it enough to prove today's the day?  



	2. 2

Author's Note: Wow, reviews rock. Thanks, you guys! :) This one is from Lizzie's POV, the next one will be from Miranda's and I'll probably write/post it tomorrow or Monday. And, again, I don't own the characters, nor do I own Sarah Harmer's song "Capsized." 

wish I could wake up from the dream  
in it I see a family photographed and there you are, tucked in the scene  
and there's a jealous net inside my chest, there's a hurt and sadness there  
maybe I'd tell you all about it if I thought you'd care

It's August. I'm sitting by the phone picking it up and setting it down again and again because I don't know who to call. I know who I want to call, but I can't call him, now, can I?   
  
I don't even understand what it was, exactly, but I know whatever he thinks happened that night bothered him so much that he won't even talk to me anymore. Suddenly he was never home when I called or came by. I saw him at graduation and he completely avoided me. He still talked to Miranda-she's the one who told me he was leaving and part of me really wants to get off my bed and run to the bus station waving my arms in the air, yelling his name. 

But the other part is holding me down, she's telling me that it's my fault and I can't just expect him to say everything's okay between us, even if that's all I want him to say. I know it was stupid. Pete turned out to be an idiot, which I'd already known he was but I thought I could tolerate it because I thought the benefits of being Pete's girlfriend would outweigh everything negative about him and me and our relationship. But I just got sick of it after the prom, knowing what he expected of me, not an unreasonable expectation but repulsive enough to lead me to that moment, the one that changed everything, that one that destroyed my friendship with Gordo.  
  
I was standing there looking at him and thinking: So this is what all of this has been leading up to, this is what I've been waiting for, but what if he doesn't even want it, and maybe I don't either, I mean, he's my friend and he is a great friend and if it doesn't work out, then what happens? My mind was spinning and I couldn't make it stop long enough to get out any words at all, so I just smiled at him while I tried to think of something to say. But I waited too long, and he ran away from me, back to the dance, back to his date, and afterward it didn't seem like the kind of moment that should have changed anything at all between two friends, but it did.

heavy heart gets lighter by your side  
but there are thoughts I wish I'd heard  
if they ask you how I'm holding up  
say I'm holding out for the words

In college, I moved on. I had a string of boyfriends and being popular didn't mean anything anymore, it turned out that the popular kids in high school were the inconsequential ones in college, and I felt finally liberated from all that pressure, like it freed me up to be me, after all this time. I made friends, I got decent grades, I came home once in a while, and I never saw or heard from him once.   
  
Miranda and I kept in touch, but it was hard to preserve a friendship like ours when it was stretched across a thousand miles. It was hard to get used to not being friends with someone who knows all your secrets, but I'd had some experience with adjusting to that particular situation already. At least this time it was mutual, and I knew it wasn't only my fault, and at least this time I knew she still loved me even if we didn't talk. 

what's the sense in being so sensitive?  
can I trade this thin skin for a shell?  
there are some things I've got no feeling about  
but there are some things I can tell

So now it's winter break, sophomore year, and I'm spending it at home. Everything is more or less the way I left it, nothing really changed while I was gone. Matt's in high school now, and taller than me. We still fight, we still don't mean what we say, we still get along when it matters. Miranda wrote to say she'd be here in a couple of days and by the way Gordo's in town too, you guys should get together or something. Right, because he really wants to see me... does he?  
  
I sat by the phone for a couple of hours just like I did that day two years ago, picking the receiver up and putting it down, rehearsing what I'd say, deciding not to rehearse what I was going to say, writing down what I was going to say, then throwing the papers away. 

heavy heart, get lighter by yourself  
it's been so long since you capsized  
and you've been lying out there in the sun  
has it begun? has it begun?

I set the phone down angrily for the 65th time (literally, I counted), irritated with myself. It rang suddenly and I screamed out loud. It wasn't him, or Miranda, just some guy I barely even remembered from high school, calling to invite me to a party, and I didn't want to go but I did want to go, so I said yeah, sure, maybe I'll show up, trying to be cool even though I like to pretend being cool doesn't matter to me anymore.  
  
I want to go because I want to see him and I don't want to go, because he might be there. But I'd like an explanation, even if it's scary, and I'd like to offer friendship, and I'll pretend I wasn't hurt if he'll pretend he didn't mean to hurt me, and I won't let on that I've missed him everyday and I won't tell him about the notebooks I've filled up with letters unsent or the 65 aborted phone calls today alone. And he won't have to tell me the reason he left and I won't have to tell him the things I thought and didn't say that night, and we'll move forward instead of living in the past. But I really would like an explanation.

heavy heart, have you heard?  
I could use the words...


	3. 3

  
AN: I still don't own the characters. This chapter is a little different in tone from the others; it had to be, because Miranda isn't totally aware of what's been going on in the minds of the other two. But the next (and last) chapter will be set a little bit later and address in greater detail what happened between Lizzie and Gordo at the party.   
  
  
It hasn't always been this way, but lately my thinking is, the best way to test a relationship is to travel with the person. If, after twenty-five hours on the road, you're not so sick of looking at his or her face that you're tempted to leave him or her behind at a roadside rest stop, chances are this one's a keeper. I've traveled with a few boys and girls over the last few years. When I left for college I brought along my boyfriend-or, rather, he brought me along, to drop me off at my school and then drive on to his own destination. The last five words I ever said to him were: "Hey, thanks for driving me." Likewise, I've brought a few potential forevers home for holidays and weekends. I've never found one single person I wanted to keep in touch with after we got back to school.   
  
So I don't know what made me think bringing her along was a good idea.  
  
* * *  
  
"What if your friends don't like me?" she asked for the forty-fifth time, flipping down the passenger mirror to make sure her hair looked all right. Again.  
  
"They will," I assured her for the forty-fifth time, not a little irritated. Then I felt bad, I always felt bad about snapping at Rachael, she had such an open face, you might as well slap her as yell at her, even if she deserved it, the way she'd look at you after, like a puppy or something.   
  
"All right," I said, finally turning off the ignition. "Let's go."  
  
"But what if-"  
  
I got out of the car.  
  
I scanned the crowd for any sign of Gordo or Lizzie. It had been so long since I had seen them, I briefly entertained the idea of Lizzie having gone wild in college and dyeing her hair some creative shade of purple or Gordo being a total Goth with a Morrissey shirt and a green mohawk. But there she was, her hair stubbornly remaining blonde, her surprised grin startling to me since I thought she hated me or something, it had been so long since I'd really talked to her. I couldn't hide my own glee, though, and threw my arms around her. I felt Rachael's fingers grasping the fabric of my shirt, like she was desperate to stay connected, afraid of getting lost, afraid I'd lose her on purpose. I won't claim the idea hadn't occurred to me.  
  
"Lizzie!" I squealed.  
  
"Miranda!" she squealed.  
  
I pulled back, unable to resist asking: "So have you seen him yet?"  
  
She stepped away, her expression souring a little. "No. Have you?"  
  
"We just got here."  
  
"That's right, 'we.' Hi, I'm Lizzie," she said, surprising me again by extending her hand and a smile to Rachael.  
  
"I've heard so much about you," Rachael replied gratefully, introducing herself.  
  
I took the opportunity of distraction to examine Lizzie's face for any signs of judgment or condemnation. Nothing. "Well, I totally want to catch up and everything," I said. "I just need something to drink first. Where do I?"  
  
She pointed me toward the kitchen and I headed in that direction. Rachael trailed behind me, grabbing for my hand. I had to resist the urge to shudder and pull back. Add another name to the list of people I never want to see again, I sighed internally.  
  
"Miranda!" called Gordo over the thumping music.  
  
"Gordo!" I shouted.  
  
We hugged, and I introduced him to Rachael, and I told him I'd seen Lizzie. His expression darkened, too. "I don't want to see her," he claimed.  
  
"You do too." I rolled my eyes. "And you know she wants to see you."  
  
"It's not that easy."   
  
* * *  
  
"She just wants to know what happened," I told him later, sitting on the driveway with a red plastic cup in each hand. Rachael sat on his other side, picking at her fingernails.   
  
"What did happen?" she asked.  
  
"It's a long story-" I started to tell her.  
  
"Basically, I got tired of waiting around for her to notice me," Gordo said, his tongue apparently loosened by drink or age or apathy.  
  
"I've been there," sighed Rachael.  
  
"I mean, yeah. Maybe I was in love with her for a while. I think it's probably impossible for anyone who comes into contact with Lizzie not to fall in love with her at some point. But when it comes down to it, what's the difference between friendship and love?"  
  
"The desire to touch," she said, like she was an expert. "Sex."  
  
He shrugged. "How did you know you wanted to cross that line with her?" he asked me. "How did you know it was love?"  
  
"I, uh" I fumbled.   
  
By the time I'd formed a suitable answer in my head, one that couldn't be thrown back at me when I instigated the inevitable break-up as soon as we got back to school, it was too late. She glared at me accusingly, wounded, almost in tears. "Oh, hell."  
  
* * *  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, after she stormed away, into the party, determined to have a good time, determined to get back at me, I don't know. "I didn't mean to get you into trouble."  
  
"It would have happened sooner or later," I shrugged. "So maybe instead of telling my ex-girlfriend what went wrong with you and Lizzie, you should tell Lizzie what went wrong."  
  
He shook his head. "I just"  
  
"She misses you, you know. Your friendship. She did love you. Just not the way you thought you wanted. But like you said, maybe that's not even what you wanted in the first place. Maybe you were just confused."  
  
"Maybe. I don't know."  
  
"Talk to her," I ordered, standing up suddenly. I grabbed his hand and led him into the house, finding Lizzie sitting alone on a couch, absorbed in her own red plastic cup. "Hi, Lizzie," he said, like a little boy forced by his mother to confront a bully.  
  
"Hey, Gordo," she replied with forced cheer.  
  
"Talk," I ordered again, and disappeared into the crowd.  
  
* * *  
  
I headed back to the kitchen to refill my plastic cups. I bumped into a blonde girl leaning against the doorway to the kitchen and glanced at her with irritation. "Miranda?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"Kate?"  
  
"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "It's been so long!"  
  
"Yeah, you just, like, disappeared sophomore year. What happened?" Why did I ask? Why would I care? Maybe because she didn't quite look like herself anymore. Gone were the superficial trappings of middle-school popularity. Her hair was cropped, chin-length, her clothes were casual and loose, her makeup was minimal. If she hadn't said my name I would never have recognized her.  
  
"My dad got transferred," she explained. "We ended up in Nevada, of all places. Things were a little different there," she giggled. "Wow, you look great."  
  
"Thanks," I smiled. "So do you! So different."  
  
"People change."  
  
"Yeah, apparently."  
  
"You want to go somewhere and catch up?" she asked innocently.  
  
* * *  
  
The sun was coming up as I stumbled into the living room of the house of some guy I didn't even know in high school, who was passed out facedown on the floor in the kitchen. I looked around the room, searching for anyone familiar. And there they were. Lizzie and Gordo, sitting together on the couch, exactly where I'd left them, awake, not nearly as hungover as I was, and chatting brightly. Catching up. I snickered.   
  
"Hey, Miranda!" Lizzie greeted me. "Come, sit! Where did you go?"  
  
"Rachael left last night, she left the phone number of the motel where she was going to be staying," Gordo said. "Um I guess the ride home is going to be a little awkward for you," he grinned, looking me up and down.  
  
"What?" Lizzie asked, oblivious as ever.  
  
"Um, yeah," I said. "So everyone here is friends again?"  
  
"We had a really great talk," Lizzie said.  
  
"Turns out all this time we both wanted the same thing."  
  
"Are you, like, together?" I asked.  
  
"Um, no," Lizzie said, looking down at her hands.  
  
"We're just friends."  
  
"'Just,'" I mimicked. "Trust me, I think being just friends is way better than being something else. A lot less trouble, that's for sure."  
  
"So, who?" Gordo asked.  
  
It was my turn to look away. "Um, Kate Sanders."  
  
"What?" Lizzie nearly yelled, twisting around to look for her former nemesis. "She was here?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
I flopped down on the couch between Lizzie and Gordo and decided to change the subject. "You know, I thought you totally hated me," I told Lizzie.  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Because you, like, stopped talking to me after I mentioned having a girlfriend."  
  
"Oh. God, no, absolutely not. I was just really busy, I swear. I wondered why *you* stopped talking to me, and I just figured you were really busy too. You really thought I hated you?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Never," she assured me, and then to Gordo: "You either. Ever."  
  
We sat there together like that for a long time, like things were still the same, the way they'd been before high school and college changed us, like things could be that way again. I don't know if the future really is as bright for us as it seemed that December morning, but at least for the first time since we scattered across the country, there was a legitimate hope that we could keep it together, and accept the state of our friendship and the people we had and would become.   



End file.
